Frozen Memories
by adventaim
Summary: The story of Jackson, the crown prince of Arendelle. [A Frozen in Time mini sequel]


**_I recommend reading Frozen in Time first. Written with inspirations from Frozen II. _**

* * *

Jackson lies on the ground, in the snow, staring up at the night sky. The only pain that remains is the one from within his mouth where a tooth threatens to fall. He reaches up his hand as the sky turns from black to blue to a pretty lavender color. He remembers his mother wearing the same color on the days she was happy. He smiles.

**Before**

He was born on the eve of the winter solstice. It was the day before his own mother's birthday.

How fitting for a child of winter, Anna thought.

She drew the coats she pulled on closer around herself. The blizzard that wreaked havoc on Arendelle had lasted for a day now. The citizens thought it was just some random freak of nature weather. But as Anna turned from the window where the storm was dying down to the bed where her sister lay, sleeping peacefully with the now calm baby in her arms, she knew.

o-o-o

The council was in an uproar. It was easy to hide in clever trimming and layers of clothing the bump that had been growing. But hiding the child was out of the question. Anna knew Elsa would never give him up, after what they had grown up with. But this time… this time was different. She was a queen with no king, who had a son with no father.

Anna could hear their voices all the way from the council room in the lower floors. And here in the upper floors she could hear the maids whispering, gossiping. What sort of man could break down the icy walls of the snow queen? What sort of queen was she to have a child with a man out of wedlock?

Anna cradled the baby in her arms. Jackson, Elsa insisted. After his father. Anna smoothed down the already unruly brown hair of her nephew. He sleepily looked up at her with the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

When Elsa returned from her meeting, the door opened with the frozen mask of defiance on her face. The door closed, and she ran and fell to Anna's feet, tears and tears of frustration and fear flowing out in sobs that Anna never knew could ever come from her sister.

Elsa could keep her boy. He could be the crown prince and could sit the throne, if and only if there were no other heirs, either from her or her sister.

o-o-o

It had been close to a year since his birth when Anna woke up to loud cries echoing in the castle. For months this occurred without fail, and each time a blizzard such as on the day of his birth raged through Arendelle. But tonight was different.

The castle creaked and bent. Her windows suddenly burst open, glass shattering and mixing with the snow that blew in. In the distance there were uprooted trees flying. Outraged voices coming from the main entrance were heard even over the crying. She ran out and almost bumped into Elsa.

Her sister had on a cloak, a wailing bundle restlessly held in her arms. Tears were once again gracing her face. Elsa put one arm around Anna, and Anna understood then that they didn't belong here. She planted a kiss on her nephew's forehead, then on her sister's cheek.

The cloak disappeared around the corner, and Anna dropped to the floor and wept.

o-o-o

The crown glittered on her head in the setting sun. From afar Anna could see the spires of the new castle behind the north mountain, also glittering in the same light. Perhaps years from now, when the people have forgotten, when her nephew would be the master of his powers, when her sister would have forgiven the kingdom enough, she would get to see them again.

**Between**

His first steps were on the cold floors of the ice castle that stood behind the north mountain, away from view of the kingdom that had forsaken them. Elsa understood their anger. But they wanted to burn him, to drown him, to impale him. Any means necessary. She rarely shuddered, but she did. He did not need Arendelle. This kingdom of their own was enough.

When her boy slipped and fell, the ice cold fingers of fear threaded through her body. He laughed instead, and the fingers drew back, but only just.

o-o-o

She told him stories. About Olaf and his innocence. About Kristoff and Sven and their bravery. His aunt Anna and her love that saved the kingdom more than once. Jackson hadn't asked about his father. Not yet.

On the night she told him about his grandparents who tried their best in the face of everything she was, a voice called to her. She stared out at the setting sun towards the far north shrouded in mist. Jackson stirred, reminding her of everything that she already had and needed was in her arms. So she shut the door.

o-o-o

Her dreams always brought her back to the nights when her window would burst open and Jack in all his glory and magic and love would be there in the past, would find his way home to them in the future. And when she woke her window would still be closed. And it was still only the two of them; the queen and prince to a kingdom that never forgot, without the king that the kingdom would never get to know.

o-o-o

Every day, as he grew older, they worked on honing their powers. Controlling them, mastering them. But Jackson was still a child. Elsa saw more and more of his father in him. He wanted to play, to cause mischief. He had that sparkle in his eyes and that snark in his grin that made Elsa's heart ache even more.

Without realizing it, the arms of sorrow mingled with the fingers of fear. And the longing to find the voice that haunted her for years was soon merging with them.

o-o-o

The fully fledged body of the shadow within took hold of her on the day Jackson asked about his father. A decade was long enough for him to not know. So Elsa started at the beginning. She slowly built his father's image into the ice: the same unruly hair, the same mischievous smile. Bare feet. A shepherd's crook. And when she reached the time his father had to leave, the statue was so lifelike Elsa could almost see the love in its eyes. She could not finish the story, and sent him out with a promise that she would finish it for another day. In the darkness and silence of the castle she built herself in the arms of her beloved, and Jackson right in between them. She let out a sob.

The voice started again. It called to her, pleaded, almost begged. She resisted, at first. But she looked up to see the figures frozen in a time that never happened. Never would. So she let go.

**Beyond**

His tooth has been aching for a while as he ventures farther than he had dared before. Jackson knows the cost of straying too far from the castle. His mother reminded him everyday. But he longs to see the kingdom that shunned them. He wants to tell to their faces that he can freeze the fjord and thaw it. That his mother has all the love in the world to not let her boy die even if it meant leaving her home and the people who would harm him alive. That his father is out there fighting an evil that wants the world.

As the sun starts to set, he makes his way back. He can't remember a day when the castle was dark, and yet here it is. Puzzlement settles within him. The pieces fall into place when he sees her leaning against the statues she has built.

For the first time in forever, a blizzard that had raged in Arendelle a decade or so ago rages once again. And somewhere in the Arendelle castle a pile of snow is found with a few sticks, rocks, and a carrot.

He lays her beneath an ice marker of his own making. He says nothing as he piles snow and more snow, because he doesn't want to see. He returns numbly to the castle. It is quiet. Dark.

And the blizzard continues.

o-o-o

Only when his stomach rumbles does he feed on the fruits that are left growing in their castle garden. Other than that he walks around the mountain aimlessly. Day in, day out. He is now the king of the kingdom his mother had built for him. He has taken to removing his shoes. The feel of the snow between his toes warms him. And still the blizzard continues.

The first time he sees humans on the mountain he thinks they are hunting game. He avoids them easily: they are few enough for him to sneak past and observe them undetected. He sees a boy his age gain praise from his father when he is able to shoot down a rabbit. A pang stings Jackson's heart, and it is not until he returns to the castle does he realize what it is. His feet carry him to the statues of a family he never grew up knowing. He walks up to the unmoving image of his father and screams. In frustration. In anger. At his abandonment. At his loneliness. Is his father still even alive? Is there really an evil out there that needs defeating? Or was his mother just disillusioned with dreams of her own making that she fooled herself into thinking that one day they would be this happy family in a kingdom of their own?

Overnight, the blizzard grows stronger.

o-o-o

So do the hunters grow in number. And Jackson knows now that they are not looking for game. The boy king, enraged at their audacity to attack him here in his own kingdom, sent avalanches, small storms, to frighten them off. Eliminate, if need be. Why not? They wanted to do so long ago, and they continue to do so now.

There are times when the hunters never return. But the blizzard always does.

o-o-o

It has been weeks since Jackson saw the last of the hunters. Now all that is left to him is the pain in his mouth. It distracts him from the pain deeper within. So he takes to roaming his kingdom again. The moment he is about to open the door to his mother's old ice castle, another pain blooms, this time from his shoulder. He is able to take in the glint of the silver tip peeking out at him before he turns and hears a whistle fill the air. He throws up his hand, but is too late. The arrow lodges right in his middle. He tumbles forward, and another arrow hits him on the other shoulder.

There is only one man, a crossbow trained at its target. This time Jackson is ready. He grows spike after spike of ice from underneath the man. The sound of the crossbow hitting the ground is muffled by the snow.

Jackson slips down the stairs. Once again he aimlessly wanders the mountain, leaving a trail of red behind him, his body sending waves of pain from everywhere to anywhere. Suddenly, he feels tired. So he drops to the ground onto the soft cushion of coldness that has been his comforting blanket for as long as he can remember.

Once, on his birthday, his mother said what his aunt used to say about him: That it was fitting that a child of winter was born on the eve of winter solstice. He then asked if she and his father were children of winter too. She smiled sadly at him and nodded. His face scrunched up in a frown, and pointed out that he was therefore a grandchild of winter. She laughed.

He lies on the ground, the echo of her laughter ringing in his ears as he stares up at the night sky. The only pain that remains now is the one from within his mouth where a tooth threatens to fall. He reaches up his hand as the sky turns from black to blue to a pretty lavender color. He remembers his mother wearing the same color on the days she was happy. He smiles.

And the blizzard stops.

* * *

**_I have had this idea for a few years now, and it is only now that I have had the chance to set it in writing. And as I wrote this, I wanted this to be split into parts, and to be titled as sort of the past, present, and future, but differently. I remembered that one of the Giver Quartet by Lois Lowry was sectioned this way, so I borrowed from it. How fitting that it was from the one entitled _****Son****_._**


End file.
